


Dragon (of the) Wood(s)

by stupidandwicked



Series: The (Werewolf) Prince and The Dragon [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidandwicked/pseuds/stupidandwicked
Summary: There was a dragon and it was standing over Derek. Derek could be imagining the dragon, he had been hit on the head hard and it felt like he was on the edge of death so, really, it would have been the perfect time to imagine a dragon.





	Dragon (of the) Wood(s)

**Author's Note:**

> this was me attempting to start making a full fic out of Dragon Bound and failing to do so. i got this part (and a little bit more) done before i gave up. i'm posting this part which is Derek and Stiles' first meeting in this universe. once again if you think something should be tagged that i didn't tag let me know.

There was a dragon. There was a dragon and it was standing over Derek. Derek could be imagining the dragon, he had been hit on the head hard and it felt like he was on the edge of death so, really, it would have been the perfect time to imagine a dragon. That or it was an illusion conjured by the witches. But the dragon was staring said witches down, angrily too if the deafening roar was anything to go by. The witches also seemed terribly afraid of the dragon so it probably wasn’t a panicked hallucination or illusion. So there was a dragon. That was unexpected.

Derek could hear the witches as they pleaded with the dragon, begged to be sparred. The dragon was obviously not moved as it roared again, and Derek had to wonder if that was truly necessary, and let loose a jet of brilliant, scorching flame from its jaws. The witches screamed and burned.

Derek just continued to stare up at the dragon, mystified, and slightly worried, about its sudden appearance. Derek wondered why it had intervened at all and he would have asked if he could but he was finding it difficult to breathe let alone speak. The witches had done a great amount of damage, mainly with fireballs. They had killed all ten of soldiers that had accompanied Derek and had done it so easily and quickly.

Derek had thought ten soldiers had been far too many to dispatch for two witches but, obviously he had been wrong. Derek had thought he could have taken them alone, he would be dead had he come alone. He would have been dead if not for the dragon. He wasn’t even sure he was going to survive now with how severe his injuries were and magic wounds took far too long to heal even for a werewolf. And there was no guarantee the dragon wouldn’t kill him now.

The dragon turned his head downward and looked down at Derek. Derek could only look back and gasp for breath, never feeling like he got enough in. The Dragon exhaled heavily and Derek felt it’s warm, sulfur scented breath gust over him.

_‘Rest.’_

The voice resonated in Derek’s mind, it had never spoken aloud. It was gentle but firm and Derek felt almost compelled to comply. He closed his eyes and felt himself quickly be drawn into the peaceful darkness of, what he desperately hoped, was sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Derek awoke he did so gradually. He had no idea where he was, he remembered the dragon, the horrific fight with the witches, but he somehow felt comforted. Almost safe. Derek stretched subtly, feeling out his body. He felt fine, good even, there was no indication of slowly healing magical wounds. That was odd. Derek finally opened his eyes and looked down at his body. He was in a bed, which he had already figured out, and was covered with a thin sheet. Derek could see his torso and saw no marks. He was completely and perfectly healed.

“So the wolf has finally awoken.” Derek startled at the voice, somehow caught off-guard. Derek jumped out of the bed and partially shifted and fixed his eyes on the stranger that had spoken. A man stood at the foot of the bed, casually and clearly unthreatened by Derek.

“Who are you?” Derek asked, growled really, it was hard to talk with a mouth full of fangs.

“The person that saved your furry ass,” the man answered. “Going up against a pair of sorceresses without any magic of your own was incredibly stupid.” The man said and Derek growled, not taking kindly to the insult despite its obvious truth. Though he had not known they were sorceresses and not just witches. The man just raised an eyebrow in response.

“That still doesn’t tell me who you are,” Derek said. “And how did you save my life? Where am I?” The feeling of comfort and safety the bed had offered was completely gone as Derek fully realized he had no idea where he was or who he was with.

“You need to calm down,” The man said softly. “I’ll answer all your questions but getting yourself worked up isn’t going to help.” Derek scoffed in response. The man sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, folding his hand in his lap. Derek knew the man was trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible, hoping it would clam Derek.

“Tell me who you are,” Derek said.

“My name is Stiles,” the man said. “You are in my home. I brought here because I did not think it was wise to leave you prone and dying in the middle of the forest.”

“What the hell kind of name is Stiles?” Derek asked.

“Wow, insulting the person who saved you. You’re a real charmer,” Stiles said, sarcasm clearly dripped from every word. But Stiles did not seem to be truly insulted. Derek warily let his fangs recede but he kept his claws.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said stiltedly. “I am…”

“Confused? Anxious? Worried?” Stiles offered. “That’s understandable. You nearly died and then you wake up in a stranger’s home with no idea where you are or what’s happened exactly.” Stiles paused and then offered Derek a small smile. “I’m sorry too, I probably being a little more difficult than I need to be. So, let’s try this again.

I’m Stiles and this is my home, it’s located in the same forest you were in, not too far from where I found you. That’s how I knew where you were. I heard the fighting, rather loud. Saw the flames too.” Stiles explained. Derek relaxed his stance but was still not comfortable enough to retract his claws. “Would you like some pants?” Stiles asked.

“What?” Derek asked, finding the question odd until he looked down at himself again. “Why am I naked in this first place?” Derek asked, surprisingly clam. He made no move to cover himself as it seemed wholly pointless after he had already been standing exposed for so long. It was also Stiles that undoubtedly undressed him in the first place.

“Well your armor was mostly destroyed and would not have been comfortable to rest and heal in,” Stiles said. “I removed it after I brought you here. I would’ve put you in something but there were so many wounds and burns.” Stiles stood and walked over to a tall wardrobe pushed against the wall opposite Derek. Stiles kept talking as he rooted around the wardrobe. “I don’t understand how you just now noticed. Didn’t you feel a draft? I mean that furry ass comment wasn’t just about you being a wolf either.”

Derek felt heat rise to his face at that comment. “A lot of men, and even some women, have hair there,” Derek said defensively.

Stiles laughed loudly at that. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Stiles said as he turned back around, now holding a pair of pants. Derek felt his face, and even his ears, heat up even more and was sure he had begun to blush. Stiles just tossed the pants to Derek who caught them gratefully. Derek retracted his claws before he pulled the pants on, mainly because he felt more at ease after Stiles’ explanation.

Afterward Derek looked back at Stiles, he had not really looked at the other man before. Stiles was dressed only in a pair of loose fitting pants, similar to the ones he had given Derek. Stiles was board shouldered with a small waist. Toned but not like Derek himself was, Stiles was thinner and more compact, strength contained in tight but defined muscles. Stiles was dotted in moles, all over his torso and upward (and downward but Derek refused to let he gaze travel and linger too long in that direction) over his neck and onto his face. A face with full pink lips, an upturned now, and wide amber eyes. Stiles was undeniably attractive.

“Enjoying the view?” Stiles teased.

“Well you clearly got too so why shouldn’t I?” Derek questioned, teasing right back.

“Fair,” Stiles said and then smirked as he moved his hands (large, strong looking, with long fingers) to the waistband of his own pants. “Want the unobstructed view?”

Derek snapped his eyes back up from where they had followed Stiles’ hands too. “That’s alright,” he said quickly.

“So shy now,” Stiles said but moved his hands away from his waistband and rested them on his slim hips.

“So… Did you see the dragon then?” Derek asked. It was a rather abrupt subject change but it was a question Derek had been wanting to ask, even if it meant an end to the surprisingly easy flirting.

“You could say that,” Stiles said, lips turned up in smile.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked.

Stiles chuckled. “Those enhanced senses failing you suddenly?” Stiles asked. “You can’t smell it? See it?” Derek was confused but took a deep breath through his nose. He smelled magic, strongly, but it was a natural, earthy scent not the sickly sweet smell of dark magic. There was something else as well. The smell of sulfur, of heat like fire. Derek looked at Stiles with shifted eyes and could see the energy coursing around the other man. It was like fire, dancing and swirling in shades of orange and red. Derek was taken aback, shocked.

“You’re the dragon,” Derek said, disbelief obvious.

“Surprise,” Stiles said as he stuck his arms out slightly and wiggled his fingers.

“How?” Derek asked, stilled stunned. He had never read anything that indicated that dragons had the ability to shape shift. To take a human form.

“It’s a long and somewhat sordid tale about a great dragon and the fae that fell in love with him,” Stiles said. “Suffice to say those were my parents, the dragon my father and the fae my mother. And, despite some very obvious differences they were able to produce me.” Stiles gestured to himself. “Quite remarkable if I do say so myself. Part dragon, part fae. Abele to take either form and still be incredibly powerful. And also stunningly beautiful. Or so other have told me.”

Derek was overwhelmed, and slightly confused, and was unable to stop himself from saying “They’re right.”

Stiles laughed again, loud and genuine. “Glad you think so,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Are there any others like you?” Derek asked.

“Nope, one of a kind,” Stiles said proudly. “Other dragons can take a human form with the help of outside magic but none can do it at will and on their own like me. That’s my mother’s magic.” Stiles explained. “Why don’t we go sit down, maybe get you to eat and drink something?”

“Yeah, okay,” Derek agreed and followed Stiles out of the bedroom. The room beyond the bedroom was large and open with no walls. It was obvious Stiles lived simply, Derek would describe it as primitive but that seemed offensive. Stiles led Derek to a small table with mismatched chairs and gestured for Derek to take either of the two seats available. When Derek sat Stiles walked over to a small, wood burning stove that had a large pot on its surface.

“I’m no great cook,” Stiles said as he spooned what looked like a kind of stew (or it could be soup, Derek honestly didn’t know the difference) into a slightly chipped bowl. “But hopefully you’ll be so hungry you’ll overlook that.” Stiles turned and walked back to the table where he sat the bowl, and a spoon, down in front of Derek. With food in front of him Derek realized how hungry he was and wasted no time in picking up the spoon and all but shoveled the food into his mouth.

Stiles sat down in the chair opposite Derek and just watched Derek eat. Or maybe he was waiting to resume their conversation. Derek neither paused or slowed down eating either way, he was too hungry for that. After he finished the bowl Stiles asked Derek if he wanted more and Derek didn’t hesitate to get up and fill the bowl himself. Derek ate the second bowl slower, not as hungry, and decided it was possible to talk and eat.

“How long have I been here?” Derek asked.

“Three days,” Stiles answered.

Derek stopped, spoon halfway between his mouth and bowl. “Three days,” Derek repeated.

“Yeah. It took you a while to heal, even with my magic aiding it,” Stiles said.

“I was asleep that whole time?” Derek asked.

“Off and on. I don’t think you ever fully woke up, but sometimes you’d open your eyes and mumble something,” Stiles said. “I thought werewolves healed quicker than that.”

“Magic wounds take longer to heal, especially one inflicted by fire and lighting,” Derek explained. “It would’ve taken even longer had you not helped it along. Sometimes we never fully recover from those types of injuries.” Stiles nodded in response but said nothing else.

“If it really has been three days a search party has been sent out,” Derek said. “That long without any communication was sure to set off alarm bells.” Derek knew his mother and sister would be worried, horribly worried really. Boyd would be worried but also was probably cursing Derek for not following his advice and taking more soldiers. Erica and Isaac would be trying to consol everyone else while silently worrying. Derek needed to get back home, as soon as possible.

“Where are you from?” Stiles asked.

“Beacon,” Derek answered.

“Beacon?”

“The kingdom just a little west of here,” Derek said but Stiles still looked confused.

“I don’t leave this area much,” Stiles said, almost shy, like he was embarrassed. “Are you someone important there? Like the head of the guard or something?”

“I-I’m the prince,” Derek said and Stiles eyes widened.

“You’re a werewolf prince? Werewolves are a royal family? In control of a kingdom?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“I’m trying not to take offense,” Derek said.

“I’m sorry,” Stile said quickly. “It’s just the last I heard werewolves were being hunted. They were viewed as nothing more than savage beasts. I had assumed things had changed, gotten better, since then but-” Stiles stopped, letting the unfinished thought hang.

“It’s been over four-hundred years since we’ve been hunted like that,” Derek said.

“Has it really been that long?” Stiles asked quietly, like he was really just asking himself the question. Derek was unsure of what he could, or even should, say. “I knew it had been a while but not centuries,” Stiles said, still quiet. The other man then sighed and his eyes focused back on Derek. “Not many people come out here. There’s really nothing here and it’s basically the edge of the world, just forest and mountains, inhospitable really. It is, however, a good place for those running from something to hide.” Stiles was babbling, like he was anxious. Or distressed.

“How long have you been alone out here?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know exactly,” Stiles said. “Like I said not many visitors, even less that want to stop and chat. Not many people trust a strange man that lives in remote forest. I mean I visit the others but it’s so hard to track time.”

“The others?” Derek questioned.

“The other dragons and the fae sometimes,” Stiles answered and Derek nodded, back to not knowing what to say. Stiles fell silent as well, absent mindedly tracing patterns on the table. Derek knew that Stiles must be lonely, possibly only just realized how lonely, like it had slipped his mind. Derek could not, and didn’t want to, imagine being alone for so long. He liked solitude but he would never want to separated from his family and friends for more than a few days, and even that might be a stretch. Stiles was alone and he would be again once Derek left and the feeling would probably be intensified now.

“Have you ever been to a city?” Derek asked.

“A long time ago,” Stiles said. “It was… odd but nice. The people didn’t like me too much though. Thought I was strange, talked to much, too overwhelmed by everything, asking questions I should have known the answers to. There were more humans then, or at least it seemed that way. They were always mistrustful of magic and… otherness.”

“There’s still humans but most are fine with magic and the like now,” Derek said. “It’s just… I thought that if… You seem to like company and well…” Derek struggled to find the right words. It was so much harder than it should be. Derek took a breath and focused solely on Stiles. “You could come back to Beacon with me, to the city, so you wouldn’t be… alone.”

Stiles stared back at Derek for several long moments, mouth opening and closing several times like he was ready to speak but decided against it. “Why?” Stiles finally asked. “I mean why are you asking me that?”

“I-I don’t know,” Derek admitted. “It just seems like the right thing to do. To give you the option of not being alone, if you don’t want to be.”

“So you’re not going to lure me into a trap and enslave me to be a war machine for violent expansion of your kingdom?” Stiles asked.

“What? No. Stiles, what- why would you ask that?” Derek asked.

“Other have tried before. It’s very tempting to try and capture a dragon, tame it, make it yours to control.” Stiles said. “I have to be careful Derek. I’m not being narcissistic when I say I’m unique. There is nothing else like me, a lot of people would want to possess that kind of power.”

“You think I would do that?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know because I don’t actually know you,” Stiles said. “I’m not threatened by you, as in individual you pose no danger to me. You were a curiosity, a werewolf fighting against a pair of sorceresses, it piqued my interest. I intervened because it reminded me of something, of someone. I was not going to let you die.” Stiles pushed away from the table and stood. Derek remained sitting and watched as Stiles began to pace.

“I like having you here, like this. I like having someone to talk to. It’s been so long and I didn’t even realize that. But I know that you have to go back, that you can’t stay. Even if you could there’s nothing to keep you here, not really. You don’t know me and I don’t want you to feel indebted to me for saving you. I didn’t do it to gain a favor I did it because it was the right thing to do.” Stiles was speaking quickly and Derek was having a hard time keeping up with the stream of words. “I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to go so long without seeing another that I forget to even be lonely. But I don’t know if I can go back with you Derek, as much as I want to. It’s a risk for me.” Stiles turned and looked at Derek again before he spoke again. “It could be a risk for you too.”

“How?” Derek asked.

“People could figure out what I am,” Stiles said. “It happened before, when I was young. They tried to capture me and to do so they hurt people I knew. I don’t want that to happen again.” Stiles stopped talking and pacing, stood still with his arms crossed over his chest.

Derek just looked at Stiles and started to hate himself a little for never knowing what to say. Derek wondered if he should try to convince Stiles that he didn’t need to worry or that would seem insensitive or demanding. Derek wondered if he should just tell Stiles that he could visit anytime, even though Stiles probably had no idea where Beacon was. Derek wondered if he should just drop the subject. Wondered why it mattered so much to him at all.

“I want to go with you, so badly,” Stiles said, so quietly that if Derek had been human he would have missed it.

“You don’t have to decide now, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that,” Derek said. “You should take some time, really think about what you want to do and then decide if you believe it’s worth the risk.”

“But you’re leaving soon,” Stiles said just as quietly. “I don’t have time.”

“You have time Stiles. Just because I’m leaving soon doesn’t mean that’s the deadline for your decision.” Derek said. “You can come any time you want or not at all if you decide that’s best.”

“I don’t even know where Beacon is or how to find you should I get there,” Stiles fidgeted as he spoke and started to worry his bottom lip.

“I can draw you a map,” Derek offered. “I mean it won’t be great but it would at least give you an idea of where Beacon is.” Derek tried for a humorous tone but it sounded flat it even to him.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know. It just does,” Derek said. Stiles just stared at Derek for a moment, still worrying his lip. Stiles gaze was intense, hard, like he was trying to see into Derek’s soul to discern his motives.

“I’ll think about it,” Stiles said. “I can’t commit to going with you now, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Stiles, really,” Derek assured.

“I-” Stiles started and stopped suddenly and then turned abruptly and walked quickly into the bedroom. Derek was worried for a moment that he had upset Stiles. But Stiles was back quickly and carrying something, clutched it tightly in his right hand. Stiles walked right up to Derek. It was distracting to have Stiles so close. Derek was not easily distracted by physical attractiveness but Stiles was so close and had so much skin barred. Then there was Stiles scent, intensified by his closeness to Derek quickly becoming the only thing Derek could smell. Then there was the fact that with Derek sitting and Stiles standing the other man’s crotch was almost perfectly eye-level and Derek forced his eyes upward to lock onto Stiles’.

“I want you to have this,” Stiles said as he lifted his hand and opened the clenched fist. In Stiles’ hand was a necklace. The chain was gold and attached to it was a small, glass orb. The orb looked like it contained fire, with shifting shades of orange, red, and yellow. It was entrancing.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

“It’s protection, for you,” Stiles said. “It will allow you to call on me and for to find you, wherever you are, no matter what.”

“Why are you giving this to me?” Derek asked. To Derek the necklace seemed like a very important gift, something you’d give a family member, a close friend, or a lover. Not something someone would hand over to a person they’ve only really known for maybe a few hours.

“I don’t know, I just feel like I should.” Stiles answered. “Do you accept it?”

“Yes,” Derek said. Stiles smiled and pressed the necklace into Derek’s hand.

“You just have to be touching it and then you call out for me,” Stiles explained. “I’ll be there in an instant. Do not hesitate to use it.”

“Okay,” Derek said, somewhat distracted by the fact that Stiles was holding his hand, pressing his thumb lightly to the underside of Derek wrist.

“And with this I won’t need a map to find you,” Stiles said. “So, should I decide to visit Beacon I’ll be able to find it and you with no trouble.”

“Can you see through it?” Derek asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Stiles assured. “It’s just let’s me know where you’re at so long as you’re touching it in some way. If you’re not touching it it’s just a pretty piece of jewelry.” Stiles released Derek’s hand and stepped back a little. Derek was mildly disappointed but didn’t let it show. Instead he used both hands to stretch the chain out and slip the necklace over his head. It was light, Derek barely felt it, even where the orb rested near the center of his chest it felt like almost nothing. Except that wasn’t completely true, it did feel like something Derek decided. It felt like a comfort.

 

* * *

 

Derek stayed another night. He and Stiles talked a lot, more than Derek remembered ever talking in his life up to that point. Both of them had questions about the other, Stiles was almost insatiably curious while the man himself was intriguing to Derek. It felt easy in a way it probably shouldn’t have but Derek didn’t care, it was nice.

When morning came Stiles gave Derek a shirt and a pair of shoes. Then he walked with Derek to the edge of the forest. Derek had been right that a search party had been sent out as they could see their camp. They said goodbye, which was much hard than it should have been and Stiles backtracked into the forest while Derek walked toward the camp.

When asked about the sorceresses, about how he survived, Derek lied. He felt awful for doing it. It felt like he was dishonoring the men and women who had fought with him and died. It felt wrong to take credit and be celebrated for something he didn’t do. It was necessary, however, for Stiles. Derek just had to remember that and then he didn’t feel as bad.


End file.
